


A Glease Surprise

by WhyUsWriteUs



Category: Glee
Genre: A Brief Mention of Santana Because We Stan, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Grease - Freeform, I might be messing up the timeline a bit but whatever, Light Angst, Mild Language, No one is a man-whore, One Shot, Underage Drinking, We don't slut-shame here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-23 22:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyUsWriteUs/pseuds/WhyUsWriteUs
Summary: Just a little one-shot based on a head canon from Twitter. Olivia-Newton John's "Bad Sandy" outfit went up for auction and it seemed like something Kurt would gift Rachel. This takes place sometime between the Glease episode and Thanksgiving.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	A Glease Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaellaIsComplicated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaellaIsComplicated/gifts).

> The original idea for this came from PaellaIsComplicated so go check them out! Writing this actually helped pull me out of writer's block so thanks a bunch Paella! Hope you like this mess :)

Kurt Hummel sat on his bed in his shitty Bushwick apartment, online shopping and feeling sorry for himself. Half a bottle of cheap wine (if it could even be called that) and a plethora of fun-sized Kit-Kat wrappers lay scattered around him. As it turned out, going back to McKinley for Grease hadn’t been his best idea. After his talk with Blaine, he felt worse than he did before the trip. To top it off, he was harboring a great deal of guilt for pressuring Rachel into going with him. It was his fault Cassandra July was able to swoop in and sleep with Brody whilst him and Rachel were trying to relive their glory days in Lima. His plan had backfired on both of them and he had to make it up to her. He took another sip of bitter rosé, shuddering, as he scrolled absentmindedly though Amazon. Suddenly, his phone dinged. He looked at the notification. It was Santana of all people. _Well, it’s not like she can make me feel any worse_. He opened the message:

SATANa: Thought you might enjoy this Lady :p

There was a link below the text which led to an article on the official Broadway website. He clicked it and spewed wine all over his keyboard when he read the headline: “Olivia Newton-John’s Iconic GREASE Outfit Up For Auction.” _This is it_, he thought as he wiped his computer with the sleeve of his pajama shirt. _This is how I’ll make it up to Rachel!_ However, his drunken heart sank when he read the price point. The bids started at 400,000 dollars. He slammed his laptop shut and flopped back onto his bed, discouraged. There was no way he could afford that. He was only a college intern after all…_wait a minute!_ _I’m an intern! _Kurt shot up into a sitting position, grabbed his phone, and pulled up his boss’s contact. He took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and hit “call.” It rang twice before a female voice answered, “Isabelle Wright.”

Kurt steadied himself, trying to sound more sober than he felt, “Hey Isabelle. It’s me-uh Kurt. Kurt Hummel. I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Two days later, Rachel Berry stood on the subway, soaking wet, and grumpily reflected on her horrible day at work. On top of her less than savory mood brought about by her personal life, her customers had been more demanding than usual, the kitchen kept getting orders wrong, and she had been puked on by a small child. Her manager let her go early considering the unsanitary circumstances, so, after stuffing her soiled apron into her bag, she had stepped out of the diner and directly into a torrential downpouring of rain. It was then that she realized she’d forgotten her umbrella. Rachel stomped her foot in frustration. She didn’t have money for a cab, forcing her to sprint the two blocks to the subway station with her bag held over her head. Unfortunately, it had offered little protection for she arrived in the underground completely drenched, water pooling in her boots. By the time she had squelched her way onto the train, there were no seats left, so she was forced to stand for the duration of the ride.

Rachel sighed and leaned her head against the cold metal pole she was holding on to as the subway rattled through the tunnel. She was cold, tired and upset. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry. The past few days had been awful for her and she was reaching her breaking point. She wished she could rant to Brody about everything, but she didn’t confide in man-whores with cougar fetishes. Then she wished she could talk to Finn but they would probably never speak again after what happened at McKinley. She felt extremely lonely as she stepped off the train at her stop and squished her way to her apartment. _At least I have Kurt_, she thought as she slid open the door.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Surprise!” Kurt’s shout greeted Rachel who stood, stunned, in the doorway.

Her roommate was gesturing grandly at a mannequin that stood in the center of their loft, adorned in, what looked like, and exact replica of Sandy’s final costume from _Grease_. She didn’t know how to react. _Grease _was one of her favorite musicals, for sure, but considering all the drama that went down after the McKinley production, it seemed like an odd gift. She hadn’t even told Kurt about her daydream in which her and Finn performed a rendition of “You’re the One That I Want.” Frankly, she was mortified at the thought of anyone finding out about that. Rachel shook herself out of her reverie and managed to plaster (what she hoped was) a grateful smile on her face.

“Wow. Thanks Kurt. This is a…r-really nice replica,” she said rather unconvincingly.

Kurt crossed his arms and shot her a look, “You know, for an actress, you’re a surprisingly bad liar.”

Rachel dropped the act, tears welled up in her eyes as she fell into a chair. “I knooooooooow. I’m sorry Kurt. I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and I had the worst day at work,” she sobbed.

“Apparently,” said Kurt. His face softened as he noticed her soaked uniform. He brought over a towel while Rachel removed her boots and wrung rain water out of her socks. “However, that’s what the present is for. That isn’t just any old costume. Here.” He handed her a piece of heavy cardstock, toweling her hair dry as she read out loud:

“Certificate of Authenticity…” her jaw dropped as the realization hit. She whipped around to look up at Kurt who just nodded, before she screamed and leapt up from her chair to run over to the mannequin.

“Is this...is this really it?” she said breathlessly as she carefully caressed the black fabric of the off-shoulder top.

“Yeah that’s really it,” Kurt replied, beaming at her.

“But how did you-“

“Isabelle Wright pulled some strings for me. Of course, I’m going to be in her debt for the rest of my life, but it was worth it. It’s my I’m-sorry-I-ruined-your-life-by-dragging-you-back-to-Lima gift to you. I hope this makes up for it.”

“KURT!” Rachel exclaimed, running over and throwing her arms around him, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You actually did me a favor by exposing what kind of guy Brody is. But thank you so much! I will never forget this. You are my best friend.”

“You’re welcome,” he said as he pulled back and took both her hands in his, “And, as your best friend I diiiiiiiiiiid take the liberty of posing with it first.” He smiled slyly

Rachel laughed, “Naturally. But now it’s my turn!”

Giggling, the two wheeled the mannequin into the other room, hand in hand to take wine-fueled selfies long into the night.


End file.
